


as fate would have it

by nightswatch



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blogging, Cooking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-02 02:16:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4041880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightswatch/pseuds/nightswatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre is very well aware that he has a bit of a crush on the guy who always bags his groceries. What Combeferre doesn't know is that said guy also runs his favorite food blog.</p>
            </blockquote>





	as fate would have it

“Do you need help with that?”

Combeferre wanted to say yes, but he knew that he’d only bought two bags full of groceries and he was perfectly capable of carrying those two bags to his car. And Courfeyrac knew as well. He probably had to ask every customer no matter what they were buying. It wasn’t his fault that Combeferre had a bit of a crush on him and Courfeyrac certainly had better things to do than carrying two plastic bags to Combeferre’s car.

“No, I got it,” Combeferre said, smiling at him. “Thank you.”

Courfeyrac handed over the bags. “Have a good day,” he said and then quickly started bagging the next customer’s groceries, winking at Combeferre before he was distracted by a pack of toilet paper.

Combeferre nearly walked into one of the other customers on his way to the exit, only barely managing to jump aside. He didn’t dare look around to check if Courfeyrac had seen it. Well, if he had seen it, he’d probably be laughing his ass off right now and he couldn’t hear anyone laughing, so Combeferre needn’t worry. Still, it was a little embarrassing, even though they were friends.

Well, at least in a way. They’d known each other for a while, mainly because they had a couple of mutual friends, so they’d seen each other every now and again, and then Courfeyrac had started working at one of the grocery stores close to Combeferre and Joly’s apartment. Combeferre had somehow found himself going there a lot more ever since, even though it wasn’t actually the closest one. He knew that it had everything to do with Courfeyrac and while he also knew that Courfeyrac was completely out of his league, he also couldn’t really bring himself to stay away.

So here he was, walking into other people because of this ridiculous crush he had. Combeferre was sure that he was going to be embarrassed about this for at least a week.

He was glad that he’d already made plans for the evening that would keep him at least somewhat distracted. He’d come across a fantastic blog a couple of months ago. It was a food blog with recipes for students or anyone else who didn’t have a lot of time to cook or a lot of money to buy ingredients, with the occasional fancy dish in between. The description read: _I started this because my roommate didn’t know how to cook pasta._

Well, Combeferre didn’t need any help with cooking pasta, he could do that much, but he’d still found many nice recipes that he’d tried out ever since he’d found the blog. It was pretty neat and well-organized. There were tons of different categories – obvious ones like breakfast, lunch, dinner and desserts, and also preparation time, average cost, and categories like _basics_ and also _not super basic but totally doable_ , and one of Combeferre’s favorites: _spice up the stuff you eat all the time and are actually pretty sick off._

The owner of the blog, _suechef_ , always included detailed descriptions and photos of what the meals were supposed to look like at different stages. In between recipes were general cooking tips, hilarious stories of things that could go wrong or already had gone wrong, and then there were the comments.

There were a lot of people simply complimenting the recipes, then some that had run into trouble and were asking for help, some who were offering additional tips. At first Combeferre had only read them, but after a while he started posting comments as well and the more he’d talked to the blogger, the more he’d started to take an interest in the person he was talking to.

Combeferre had recently discovered the _private message_ button. He’d been trying to remember one of his grandmother’s cake recipes, but it had always felt like something was missing, so he’d figured he might as well ask for help. Combeferre hadn’t really expected to get an answer, since _suechef_ must be getting tons of messages but, much to his surprise, Combeferre had received a reply only a day later with a couple of suggestions on what else he could try to add.

They’d been exchanging messages ever since – _suechef_ had sent him some more recipe suggestions; Combeferre, even though he actually would have been fine on his own, had asked for help because he’d wanted to cook for Joly and his new boyfriend and hadn’t been sure what to make for them.

Anyway, Combeferre hadn’t been able to find out much about _suechef_ and he hadn’t wanted to ask invasive questions, although he had found a comment thread in which _suechef_ had mentioned that he was actually a guy from Paris and that his name definitely wasn’t Sue. Combeferre had been playing with the thought of mentioning that he was from Paris too ever since, but it somehow felt ridiculous because nothing could possibly come out of it. It wasn’t like they were suddenly going to meet up and exchange recipes in person.

When he got home, Combeferre opened _suechef_ ’s blog on his laptop. Joly was spending the night at Bossuet’s place and Combeferre was planning on trying one of the first recipes that _suechef_ had put up on his blog. It was a red velvet cupcake recipe, pretty easy to make, and they ended up looking really nice, so Combeferre decided to send a picture to _suechef_.

Even though he was usually quick to reply, Combeferre still decided to sit down with a book and a cup of tea and a cupcake instead of waiting for an answer. It was Friday evening and _suechef_ usually only updated the blog on Mondays and Thursdays and if he was a student, which was pretty likely, there was a good chance that he wasn’t even home right now. Or maybe he was still studying for exams. Combeferre had already had his last one for his term a couple of days ago, but many of his friends still had a few ahead of them.

When Combeferre finished his book a couple of hours and three cupcakes later, he decided to check his messages.

 _suechef:_ aw, I haven’t made these in months. they look great, I hope they taste as amazing as they look!

 _LukePiewalker:_ I’ve already had three, so yes, they taste great :-)

It only took about a minute until Combeferre got yet another message.

 _suechef:_ I’m happy to hear that :))

 _LukePiewalker:_ I’m making an effort to save a few for my roommate.

 _suechef:_ how generous of you ;)

Combeferre wasn’t quite sure what to say to that and he wasn’t sure whether or not _suechef_ was actually up for idle chit-chat. Before he could think of something else, he’d already received another message.

 _suechef:_ so, why are you up so late?

 _LukePiewalker:_ I was just reading, I’m having a quiet night in. What about you?

 _suechef:_ I was writing up a new post for something I tried earlier today. actually this might be of interest to you. I was trying to make Star Wars themed cupcakes in celebration of the new trailer but they ended up looking terrible so I made lightsaber cookies instead.

 _LukePiewalker:_ I’ll definitely try to make those too :-D

 _suechef:_ do you want a preview? ;)

 _LukePiewalker:_ Yes please!

Combeferre didn’t know if there were a lot of people who had preview privileges, maybe _suechef_ often sent stuff to the people who took an interest in his blog – Combeferre couldn’t be the only one he exchanged private messages with.

 _suechef:_ well, here you go. promise you’ll send a picture when you make them :))

 _LukePiewalker:_ I will!

* * *

Combeferre’s lightsaber cookies didn’t turn out quite as beautiful as _suechef_ ’s when he tried to make them the following weekend, but at least that gave Combeferre another chance to talk to him.

Obviously Combeferre knew that talking to a stranger on the internet wasn’t actually the safest thing to do, so he made a point in keeping things vague and didn’t say anything that would give too much about him away. He could tell that _suechef_ was doing the same, although at some point they went from talking about their favorite food to their favorite books, other hobbies besides cooking, and then _suechef_ also sent him a couple of kitten videos when Combeferre mentioned that he wasn’t feeling so great.

It was just a headache actually, but _suechef_ seemed to be really concerned for his wellbeing and sent him a recipe for a “very special chicken noodle soup”.

 _suechef:_ I hope you have someone to make it for you ;)

 _LukePiewalker:_ Sadly I don’t. I should probably just go to bed, I’m sure I’ll feel much better tomorrow.

 _suechef:_ that’s too bad

 _suechef:_ you know, I’d totally make it for you, but sending soup via the internet isn’t a thing yet

 _LukePiewalker:_ I do appreciate the sentiment :-)

 _suechef:_ I have to go now but I hope you feel better soon!! ;)

Combeferre wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to think about the abundance of winky faces that _suechef_ was sending him, because he certainly didn’t use that many in the comments. Combeferre only sighed at himself. He really needed to stop reading things into emoticons, there was absolutely no point in it.

Eventually Combeferre decided to text Joly to let him know that he was staying home and just went to bed. It wasn’t even dark outside just yet, but his head was killing him. His friends were going out tonight – Courfeyrac was going to be there and Combeferre had actually been inclined to go, but now he really just wanted to sleep. He was going to see Courfeyrac soon enough.

Soon enough actually turned out the be the following afternoon when Combeferre went to the grocery store to stock up on coffee so he could power through the two papers he still needed to write.

Joly was spending most of his time either at Bossuet’s or at the library, but Combeferre very much preferred writing his papers at home. There he had an endless supply of tea and coffee and slightly misshapen cookies; his desk was in a state of organized chaos, covered in books and research papers that he didn’t want to drag to the library.

“Honestly, I’m glad you bought some bananas,” Courfeyrac said when he put Combeferre’s shopping into bags, “because I don’t think that a person can live off chicken nuggets. And you’ve definitely bought enough to last you at least a week.”

Combeferre shrugged and reached for his wallet. “Well, I live with Joly so...”

“Yeah, I mean, you obviously don’t have to explain yourself or anything,” Courfeyrac said quickly, “I definitely wasn’t judging your chicken nugget consumption. You’re talking to someone who only ate cookies and pot noodles all throughout exam season. Well, with a couple of exceptions.” Courfeyrac laughed nervously, looking at something behind Combeferre’s left shoulder, which quite obviously made it a lot harder for him to reach for another bag.

“It’s alright, I get it,” Combeferre said and smiled at Courfeyrac so he could stop avoiding eye contact and grab one of those bags. Not that they were in a hurry – there wasn’t anyone else in line and Combeferre, well, he liked talking to Courfeyrac.

Courfeyrac hummed and quickly finished Combeferre’s checkout. “Well, there you go. By the way, I hope you’re feeling better.”

Combeferre frowned. “What–”

“Oh, Joly told me you weren’t feeling well last night,” Courfeyrac interrupted. “I was just... I mean, we were all really sad that you couldn’t make it. All of us.”

“Right,” Combeferre mumbled. “It was just a headache. I’m sure I’ll be able to come with you next time.”

“I certainly hope so,” Courfeyrac said. He cast a glance to his right, but turned back to Combeferre when he saw that there was still no one wanting to check out. “So, what are you up to? Are you done with exams?”

“Thankfully, yes. I just have two papers left to finish,” Combeferre said. “Hence the unhealthy food and the instant coffee. What about you?”

“Same here. Well, I only have one paper, but I’m also helping out at a law firm twice a week. Doing some laywering and all that.”

“Lawyering,” Combeferre echoed with a grin, “right, of course. At your dad’s firm?”

“No, I really don’t want to work for my dad, to be honest,” Courfeyrac said with a shrug. “Not that he’s not doing good work, or his partners, I just want to do my own thing.”

Combeferre nodded. “I understand.”

“I mean, I’m still a long way away from doing my own thing,” Courfeyrac went on. “Now I’m just doing a lot of photocopying. Unpaid photocopying, that is. Although they let me sit in on a meeting once and I hope there are many more to follow. I’m daydreaming about someone asking for my opinion one day.”

“I hope they will,” Combeferre said.

 “Maybe I should just...” He trailed off when another customer approached.

“I better go,” Combeferre said and picked up his bags. “Let’s talk some other time.”

Courfeyrac winked at him. “We definitely should. I’ll call you.”

“Sure, yeah, that’s... good.” Combeferre smiled at him and then quickly walked away before Courfeyrac could figure out how much the winking had thrown him off and also how embarrassingly excited he was because Courfeyrac had promised to call him.

At least he didn’t walk into anyone on the way outside.

* * *

Combeferre was inclined to ignore that someone was ringing their doorbell. He was nearly done with the first of his two papers and he was right in the middle of writing up the conclusion, but maybe Joly had forgot his key or maybe one their neighbors needed help, so Combeferre eventually saved his file and went to answer the door.

Much to Combeferre’s surprise, it was Courfeyrac who was standing on the doorstep. “Oh, hey, you’re home.”

“I am,” Combeferre said, a little too confused to add a proper greeting to that.

Courfeyrac nodded. “I thought you weren’t.”

“Well...” Combeferre took a step back so Courfeyrac could come in. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Right,” Courfeyrac said, “I tried something. You know, a new recipe, sort of. I finished my last assignment yesterday and today I was kinda bored, so I started experimenting.” Courfeyrac pulled a tupperware container out of his backpack. “I made a casserole.”

“Oh... that’s for me?” Combeferre pushed the door shut, not sure what exactly had prompted Courfeyrac to bring him food.

“Yeah,” Courfeyrac said and handed it over. “It ended up looking pretty disgusting, but I promise it tastes great. I mean, I guess you’ve already had dinner, but you can also put it in the fridge and eat it tomorrow or something. If you want you can share it with Joly, too.”

“Thank you,” Combeferre said. “I actually haven’t had dinner yet. I was still working on one of my papers.”

“Even better.” Courfeyrac smiled broadly. “I thought you might want something other than pot noodles and chicken nuggets for once. Well, I’ll let you get back to work.”

“Or you could stay for a bit,” Combeferre said quickly. “I should probably take a break anyway. I keep telling Enjolras that he needs to take breaks to eat and to sleep every now and then. You know, he keeps texting me with ideas in the middle of the night, it’s a bit worrying.”

“Yeah, he does that,” Courfeyrac said with a laugh. “I mean, it’s nice to have someone to share ideas with. I told him to start a blog, I’m sure there are tons of people who agree with him.”

“That’s actually a really good idea.” Combeferre pulled the lid off the food that Courfeyrac had brought him. It really didn’t look that great, but it smelled fantastic. “I’ll just quickly heat this up. Can I get you anything?”

“No, I’m good.”

“Alright, well, make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right there.”

Courfeyrac pointed at the door to his right. “Living room?”

Combeferre nodded. He’d forgotten that Courfeyrac had only been here once or twice when Enjolras had brought him over for a movie night.

When Combeferre joined him, Courfeyrac had already found himself a nice spot on the couch. Courfeyrac’s casserole was delicious, which was what Combeferre told him repeatedly, even long after he’d finished eating and they’d started watching a documentary about the best restaurants from all over the world that Courfeyrac had found on the internet. And somehow Combeferre still hadn’t managed to ask Courfeyrac why exactly he’d chosen to bring him food completely out of the blue.

“I’m pretty sure that if I wasn’t becoming a lawyer, I’d totally try to open my own restaurant. And I’d invent really great dishes. And I also wouldn’t have a personal life because I’d dedicate all my time to my restaurant,” Courfeyrac said dreamily. “Although, as you’ve seen, my food really isn’t that great appearance-wise sometimes.”

Combeferre laughed. “Well, it’s not all that matters.”

“Yeah, that’s what we’d all like to think, but would you have eaten that catastrophic-looking casserole if someone you didn’t know had offered it to you?”

“I wouldn’t eat food that strangers offer me in general.”

Courfeyrac hummed. “That’s actually pretty smart.”

“Anyway, your casserole was amazing and I’m actually not sure if I want to share it with Joly,” Combeferre said.

Courfeyrac wiggled his eyebrows. “There’s more where that came from.”

Combeferre huffed out a laugh, not entirely sure what to reply. He really liked Courfeyrac, but he didn’t actually have the guts to ask him out because he still wasn’t quite sure whether or not Courfeyrac was flirting with him because he liked him too or because he just liked to flirt with people.

“I can give you the recipe,” Courfeyrac continued, not at all bothered by Combeferre’s silence, “maybe it’ll end up looking nicer when you make it.”

“I’m not so sure, but I’ll definitely try.”

“So, you like cooking?”

“I do,” Combeferre replied. “I usually don’t make anything too fancy, though.”

“Ohh, maybe we should make something fancy sometime,” Courfeyrac said, briefly glancing at Combeferre. “You know, we could cook together, I bet that’d be fun.”

Combeferre nodded. “We should do that,” he said. Maybe he should have also asked if cooking together counted as a date.

* * *

Combeferre hated to admit it, but he was a bit of a mess the day that Courfeyrac was going to come over. He’d come to the conclusion that if Courfeyrac had wanted this to be a date, he would have said so. Courfeyrac was straightforward like that. So tonight was just two friends cooking together because they both liked cooking, there was really nothing else to it, but Combeferre was still nervous. It was a bit ridiculous, he knew that, but he just really liked spending time with Courfeyrac. Well, he really liked Courfeyrac in general.

Courfeyrac had promised that if they could use Combeferre’s kitchen, he could bring over the ingredients for the main course. So far he’d kept whatever they were cooking a secret, so Combeferre also hadn’t told him what he was planning for dessert. Combeferre had asked _suechef_ for help for that one, he’d needed something with a lot of chocolate – Enjolras had told him that Courfeyrac ate more chocolate than anyone else he’d ever met – and _suechef_ had sent him a recipe for chocolate chunk brownies.

Thankfully Courfeyrac was right on time so Combeferre didn’t have much time to make himself even more nervous. Joly had stuck around for the better part of the afternoon, had tried to encourage him to just ask Courfeyrac out already. Combeferre wasn’t going to, but it was nice to know that Joly thought that Courfeyrac might be even just remotely interested.

When Courfeyrac arrived, he came marching into the apartment with a bag full of groceries and a broad grin on his face. “Alright then,” Courfeyrac said and put the groceries down on the kitchen counter, “I was thinking we could make couscous-stuffed chicken. And a salad.”

“Sounds good,” Combeferre said when Courfeyrac handed him the recipe. It was handwritten, but Combeferre was still sure that he’d seen that recipe before. On _suechef_ ’s blog. “You know, it’s really funny, but I’m pretty sure that I’ve seen that exact recipe on the internet not too long ago.”

Courfeyrac turned to look at him very slowly, staring at him with wide eyes. “Have you?”

Combeferre nodded. “I saw it on a blog called _suechef_ , is that where you found it?”

“Yeah, yes, that’s where I found it,” Courfeyrac said and laughed nervously. “What a coincidence.”

“It’s a good blog,” Combeferre said. “I’ve been following it for a while.”

Courfeyrac hummed thoughtfully. “I just found it when I went looking for recipes and this one looked pretty good.” He shrugged and smiled at Combeferre. “So, what are we having for dessert?”

“Brownies,” Combeferre said and handed over the recipe that _suechef_ had sent him. “You like chocolate, right?” he added when Courfeyrac was still staring down at the recipe about a minute later.

“I... yes, I do.” Courfeyrac finally looked up. “Um, Combeferre, where did you get this?” he asked, tapping on the recipe.

“A friend sent it to me,” Combeferre said slowly. “Why?”

Courfeyrac frowned. “A friend?”

“Yeah, well...” Combeferre bit his lip. He could probably tell Courfeyrac where he’d got it, it didn’t really matter anyway. “I got it from the guy who runs that blog, you know, the _suechef_ blog.”

“Oh my god,” Courfeyrac said and burst out laughing, “you’re LukePiewalker?”

“How do you...” Actually Combeferre didn’t need to ask how Courfeyrac knew his username. It was pretty obvious. And he understood the name now. “It’s called _suechef_ because you’re becoming a lawyer, isn’t it?”

“Jesus, Combeferre, you’ve totally compromised my secret internet identity. You’ve seen right through the pun,” Courfeyrac said and elbowed him in the ribs. “I seriously can’t believe this. You know, this is my big sister’s favorite brownie recipe. It’s also _my_ favorite brownie recipe.”

Combeferre laughed. “Well, at least you’re definitely going to like dessert, then.” To be honest, he was rather eager to change the topic, so Courfeyrac wouldn’t remember the conversation they’d had when Combeferre had asked for that recipe. “Let’s get started on the chicken, shall we?”

“Yeah, sure,” Courfeyrac said. He tilted his head. “This is really weird, though. I mean, in a good way, but seriously, I didn’t even think we lived in the same city or anything, this is so cool.” He grinned. “And you like my blog.”

“I do like your blog, yes.”

Courfeyrac started unpacking the chicken, still grinning. “How about I take care of this and you make the salad?”

“Sure,” Combeferre said, a little relieved now because Courfeyrac didn’t seem to be bothered by him changing the topic.

Courfeyrac told him about his job while they were working, asked Combeferre how his assignments had gone, then they briefly talked about their friends. Courfeyrac was just about to roll up the chicken breasts when he suddenly froze.

“Something wrong with the chicken?” Combeferre asked.

“No,” Courfeyrac said, but he narrowed his eyes, “I was just thinking... when you asked me for that recipe, you said–”

“Can we forget about what I said?” Combeferre muttered. This was bound to get really embarrassing.

“But you said that you were making dessert for someone you like,” Courfeyrac said. “Seriously, I’m pretty sure that that’s what you said. And you’re making dessert with me, or for me, or whatever, so basically you were saying that you like... me.”

“I’m sorry,” Combeferre said, suddenly not able to look Courfeyrac in the eye anymore, “I didn’t know it was you and I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I promise.”

Courfeyrac frowned. “Do I look uncomfortable to you?” He took a step closer and gave Combeferre a nudge. “Because I’m not. I’m actually glad that you told me, even if you didn’t know that you were telling _me_ , but, you know, I like you too, I really do.”

Combeferre’s stomach gave a bit of a flutter at that. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” Courfeyrac said. “I actually thought I was being super obvious. And I also thought you were just completely out of my league.”

“I’m really not.”

“Can you put that down?” Courfeyrac said and pointed at the olive oil that Combeferre was still holding. “Because I kinda want to kiss you right now. If you don’t mind.”

Combeferre was pretty sure that he’d never put anything down this fast. “Go right ahead.”

Courfeyrac was still smiling when he stood on his tiptoes to give Combeferre a kiss. The first one was a little awkward, but the second one turned out much better because Combeferre wrapped his arms around Courfeyrac to keep him steady.

Eventually Courfeyrac pulled away, still framing Combeferre’s face with his hands. “We were making food.”

“The food can wait,” Combeferre said and pulled him closer again.


End file.
